


How Will We Get Through This

by TheresaWritesStuff



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, POV Mycroft Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 13:10:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14106093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheresaWritesStuff/pseuds/TheresaWritesStuff
Summary: Mycroft helps Anthea through some first mission jitters.Inspired by the Learn to do it waltz reprise from Anastasia





	How Will We Get Through This

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this around the same time as the Sherlolly drabble "It's one, two, three and suddenly." A bit of a different take, but I felt like it was still fitting. 
> 
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> Enjoy! Please let me know your thoughts in the comments :)

Mycroft adjusted his bow tie in the frankly ridiculously short mirror of their hotel room as his partner reviewed their mission file from her seat on the bed.

“I would have thought that you’d have that file memorized backwards and forwards by now,” he commented casually. It was about as close to friendly ribbing as Mycroft Holmes got.

“Just first mission jitters, sir,” she replied, scanning over her target’s information once more for good measure. “I’m more accustomed to desk work, as you know.”

The corner of Mycroft’s mouth twitched in what could almost be called a smile. “Yes, well, tried as he might, I’m afraid Agent Shaw just wasn’t able to fit into that gown as well as you do.”

“Careful, sir. That sounds dangerously close to a compliment,” she teased.

Mycroft glanced over his shoulder at her before shaking his head, turning his attention back to his tie. _Perhaps it was._

She swore under her breath, catching his attention once more.

“What is it?”

“I-I don’t remember how to waltz,” she stammered, pacing the floor, her dress rustling with every step. “I can remember how to tap dance, how to pop and lock, how to jitterbug, but waltzing...My memory has gone completely blank.”

“It’s alright, it’s alright. Come here. I’ll show you,” Mycroft soothed, taking her hand in his and placing it on his shoulder.

She nodded, attempting to calm down as he swayed them slowly into a waltz.

“Just breathe,” he reminded her, meeting her eyes supportively.

She smiled sheepishly, taking deep, steady breaths.

“Are we alright now?” he asked. She nodded in confirmation. “Good. Then let’s review the mission details once more, so we’re both clear on them.”

She smiled at his attempt to put her at ease. “Target is an arms dealer, primarily based in Belarus, looking to expand his market.”

“Ah, I knew you memorized the file. Go on,” he prompted.

“You and I are posing as wealthy aristocrats, looking to secede from Luxembourg and claim our independence, potentially by force, to take our rightful place as rulers of the once proud Genovian people…I’m sorry, sir, but isn’t Genovia the country from The Princess Diaries series?”

“Is it? Hm,” he wondered unconvincingly.

She quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “You already knew that, didn’t you?”

He cleared his throat. “It…may have been featured in the inflight movie while I was formulating our back stories. It is entirely possible that it made its way into my subconscious.”

“Uh-huh,” she replied, seeming thoroughly amused by this new piece of information.

Mycroft adjusted his hand on her back, schooling his expression into something more suitably serious for a man of his rank.

“Besides…Julie Andrews is a national treasure,” he added defensively.

Her smile bubbled into a laugh that threatened to shake her whole torso. She rested her forehead against his shoulder momentarily to regain her composure. “I can’t argue with you there, sir.”

“I suppose we should rethink the name then,” he mused, ignoring the slight pang of loss he felt when she lifted her head from where it had rested on his collar bone.

“No, I like it,” she said brightly, still schooling her laughter. “It gives it a little something extra that you and I can use in the field. And if anyone questions us…we can pretend we’ve had too much champagne and meant to say we are from Geneva.”

Mycroft had to smile at this suggestion, their dance slowing to a stop, though their arms remained in place. “I can always count on you for a clever solution.”

Her expression softened a bit as she met his eyes. “You can always count on me _period_ , sir,” she replied seriously.

“I suppose I can, can’t I?” he murmured, taking in the features of her face, his gaze resting briefly on her lips.

_When had they gotten so close to one another? He didn’t remember consciously pulling her in this close…and yet he couldn’t will himself to pull away._

Her fingers drifted lower, trailing ever so slightly down the shoulder of his suit.

She whispered, “Sir, I…”

There was a knock at the door, cutting through the sudden weight of the moment. Mycroft reflexively stepped back, releasing her as Agent Shaw let himself into their suite.

“The team is ready for you downstairs,” he informed them.

She gave him a soft smile as she crossed the room to take her ear piece from Agent Shaw. And for a moment, Mycroft found himself completely captivated by her.

Despite her nerves from before, she was the picture of confidence as she readied herself for battle, looking positively radiant even under the poor hotel lighting.

She was ready for this. He’d taught her well. There was no one he would rather have beside him on this mission than her.

_Or anywhere for that matter…_

His heart betrayed him, skipping a beat as she looked at him expectantly, offering her hand.

“I’ll be right with you,” he assured her.

“Shaw, would you run down and start the car for us?” she suggested.

“Of course,” Shaw replied with a nod, leaving the two of them.

“Any final words of advice, sir?” she asked, donning her coat.

Mycroft smiled to himself as he tidied the papers on the bed.

“Nothing you don’t already know,” he replied simply, giving her a courtly nod. “Princess Anthea.”

She chuckled, studying him from the doorway. “Mister Holmes.”

She gave him a wink, her eyes sparkling playfully as she exited into the hall.

And though he tried to ignore it, the room suddenly felt empty without her.

He closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair with a sigh, reprimanding himself for the invasive thoughts of her touch that had flooded his mind. He always did dismiss sentiment. It should not surprise him that it would be the one thing that could catch him off guard.

He groaned, turning to face the window as he realized that somehow in that moment as he held her tenderly in his arms, his heart had been become completely, irrevocably compromised.

_How will we get through this?_


End file.
